Nothing Shall Long Endure
by Dweller in the Deep
Summary: AU The widowed Éowyn becomes nursemaid to Prince Eldarion after the death of Arwen in childbirth. Eventually AraE.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: All places, characters, blah blah blah…are Tolkien's.

A/N: When I first read the books, I was sure Aragorn and Éowyn would be together. Of course, I was sorely disappointed. It has taken a long time, and thousands of dollars in counselling, but I have finally overcome my grief. Well, I thought I had, anyway. 

This will eventually (at the expense of many a cherished character's life) become an A/E fic. If you love Arwen and/or Faramir, I'm afraid they won't be seen much in this story, although I promise their characters won't be bent beyond recognition.

I love the books, and Faramir, and I can deal with Arwen, but this is an AU. 

Prologue

Faramir opened the door tentatively. Éowyn sat propped up on many pillows upon their bed, nursing their new son.

'Why do you linger at the threshold, my lord?' she asked quietly, her eyes still fixed on the babe in her arms.

His sigh was audible but the inhibition faded as he strode to her side.

'I feared your wrath, my lady.' he smiled, taking her hand and peering closer at the child's face.

'My wrath, Sir?'

'Yes. Not an hour ago there was a great racket raging in this chamber, and you, my lady, were shouting out the most unseemly curses: the better half directed towards me, depicting in great detail all the horrid torments you would subject me to.'

'Ah, I remember now,' she smiled, unabashed. 'But you have forgiven me, and there is no harm done. Now, hold your son.'

Faramir received the boy eagerly and gazed with rapt attention at his face. 'The first of many.' he murmured. 'Love, what shall we name the future Steward of Gondor?'

Éowyn closed her eyes for a moment before answering: 'Name him as seems good to you. I care not, for he is here, and healthy, and I would love him even by the worst name man's tongue can utter.'

'I shall call him Elboron, for my brother.'

'An excellent choice.' Éowyn conceded with a nod of her head. 'Forgive me, Lord, for I am weary.'

'Sleep, my wife. I shall watch over our son.'


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Éowyn sat cross-legged and bare-footed on the bench beneath the White Tree. The wind idly tossed her hair from side to side, a brief respite from the oppressing heat of the city.

She was past caring if people thought her base, and, for the most part, they were beyond judging her.

She was aware of a man's presence beside her, and turned to see Aragorn watching her thoughtfully.

'My King,' she began, smiling a small smile, something rare to cross her face these days, even in its bleakest form. 'I believe congratulations are in order.'

He shielded her from the brunt of his elation, though mirth still danced in his eyes. 'I thank you, Éowyn,' he replied, smiling sadly at her.

'How is the Queen?'

'Well.' for once his unyielding demeanour faltered, and he could not quite meet her gaze.

'Well?' Éowyn asked, her amusement carrying her through her mixed feelings as she raised an unconvinced eyebrow. 'Only well?'

'Delighted. Overjoyed. What will you have me say? This past hour I have threatened countless times to tie her down if she will not rest.'

'And she should be happy, as should you. Even before a grieving widow.' she scolded, gazing at him sharply. 'I am not one to welcome pity, Lord, and I have had about all I can stand of it this past year.'

'Forgive me, Éowyn, but I did not want to rub salt into your wounds. After the loss of your family…I can not begin to understand the bitter-sweetness of this news.'

'Arwen is my greatest friend, and I wish you both- and the child- nothing but happiness, and I hope that, perhaps in some small way, I may contribute to the life of your child.'

'You know it would honour us.'

'Good. I believe I shall go and see your wife now.'

She knocked on the door to the Queen's parlour, waiting for admittance.

'Enter!' came the call, less subdued than usual. 'Éowyn!' she cried, rushing to embrace her friend. 'You have heard, then?'

She nodded. 'Aye, I have. Congratulations.'

'I am sorry-'

'No. I shall not have you apologising on this happy day. I am glad for you, and the news brings me no pain.'

Arwen smiled. 'Well, my friend, we have finally found an area in which you are more experienced than I. Come, you must tell me all that I shall experience over these next months.'

So Éowyn spent the afternoon revelling in the bitter-sweetness of memory and recalled all that she could remember of her pregnancy, allowing herself to be humoured by her friend.


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Questions answered in this chapter. Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

Chapter 2

__

'We must get Elboron to the King. The Healers in the Emyn do not have his skill.' 

'No! The weather will be the death of him. Wait a little longer. Perhaps the fever will abate.'

The storm grew worse, as did Elboron's health, while Faramir and Éowyn could do naught but watch helplessly.

'It does not abate. We must go now.'

'The road is too hard. He will not survive such a journey.' 

And then, for the first time in their marriage, Faramir struck her. There was betrayal in his eyes, yet there was truth in her words.

'You place too little faith in the strength of our son. He will live. We ride for Minas Tirith. Elboron will not die.'

*

Éowyn woke with a gasp, tossing the bedcovers aside, and rubbing her skin as though it were aflame.

For a moment she had remembered all too clearly the feel of cold flesh in her arms…

She hastily wiped the sweat and tears from her face, trying desperately to forget the memory. 

__

If only they hadn't waited. Perhaps they'd both still be alive…

Perhaps then she would never have been forced to hold her dead babe in her arms.

__

He was so blue…and so, so cold…

She forced down the need to gag.

__

And then Faramir…so despairing…

And Faramir had gone to battle, fighting against the harsh reality that his son had died ere ever they made it to Minas Tirith. His grief was so great that he fought too hard and was lost to their foes before his men could save him.

It was after the death of Faramir that Éowyn removed from the Emyn to the home of the King and Queen at their request: for it pained her too much to remain in her once happy home, yet she was not prepared to leave for Rohan, far from the lands Faramir had so dearly loved.

Éowyn forced herself to focus on the present. Drawing a shaky breath, she became aware of the commotion outside her door.

Donning a white linen robe, she went to investigate.

A harassed looking maid brushed rudely past her without apology. Éowyn's brow creased with worry, and she caught the next maid to pass by the arm and demanded to know what was going on.

'The Queen,' she breathed, exhausted, 'is giving birth.'

'Birth? But she is not due for at least another month!'

'Aye, my lady, and it is not looking well.' and she quickly took her leave, Éowyn following at a slower pace, foreboding wriggling intensely in her gut.

She heard the cries now, echoing about the stone hall. Arwen's cries. Ahead she saw Aragorn waiting outside their chambers.

'My lord!' she called, her voice sounding strangled. 'What is happening?' even as she uttered the words, an infant cry sounded from behind the closed door.

His face was grave as the stone of his hall, grief etched deep in his eyes. 'The baby.' and there was something in his stance she'd never seen before- fear. 'Éowyn, go to her. They will not let me in. Help her, Éowyn.'

__

Help her? I can help her no more than I could help my Elboron…

Yet she nodded solemnly, squeezing his hand before she reached for the doorhandle and entered the room.

Arwen lay exhausted on the bed.

'My friend,' she whispered weakly, holding out her hand. Éowyn moved past the nurses and sat beside her.

'My friend.' she replied. Against her will, Éowyn's eyes were drawn to the blood on the bed.

__

So much blood…

'I am dying.' she sighed.

'No, no. The child is here. You are a mother. A good mother.' _Even as I was not…_

'I am spent, Éowyn, my good friend. I am dying.'

Arwen held the babe- a boy, Éowyn noted, her heart wrenching in her chest- for a moment, looking on him lovingly, then she said: 'Look after him, and my husband. Their care I entrust to you.'

'No, no, you mustn't! I am unfit-' Éowyn said through her tears.

'You are fit, Éowyn. Treat my boy as you would have treated your own son-'

'I killed my own son-'

Her voice became stronger, and, curiously, more annoyed. 'My time is almost spent here, Éowyn. Let us not spend my last moments arguing. You did not kill Elboron. He was ill. And as unfortunate as the event was, it was nobody's fault. Look after my family. Do you promise me?'

'I promise.' her voice was barely more than a whisper.

'Now, bring me my husband.'

She hurried to the door. Aragorn looked at her expectantly.

'She asks for you.' 

'How is she?'

Éowyn could only shake her head.

When Aragorn had entered the chamber, leaving her alone in the hall, Éowyn sank silently to the floor, crying as she had not cried since Faramir died. She tried not to hear Aragorn's wail of grief at the passing of Arwen. She stuffed her fingers in her ears, but it tore at her heart all the same. She felt empty…or rather, full only of sadness and grief.

The nurses exited the room to allow Aragorn time alone with his wife.

'My lady,' one said. There were tears in her eyes and she wrung her hands together in distress. 'Perhaps you should go comfort him after a while. Do not leave him alone too long.' her subtle warning sent chills down Éowyn's spine.

__

'Look after my family...' She would be failing Arwen only minutes after making the promise.

'I shall check on him in a moment.' she wiped her eyes and lent back against the wall.

She could hear the babe crying. 

***

'Hush, Elboron, my love.' she rocked her son in her arms, whispering nonsense words in his ear.

It was hot and he was restless. She could sympathise. 

Elboron held in one arm and fan held in the other, they paced the spacious balcony looking out over the gardens.

'Papa will be home soon.' she murmured, but he would not rest; only wailed on insistently…

***

The wailing was real, and Éowyn woke to find, not unusually, that she had been asleep.

Her heart thudded in her chest.

'Aragorn!' she whispered. 

Of all the despicable things to do! She had fallen asleep! How could she have done such a thing? What had Aragorn done to himself while she slumbered?

She hastily stood from the stone floor and burst quickly through the door.

'Aragorn!' she cried, but he only sat there at the foot of the bed, cradling the distressed babe- and he was quite alive.

'What is it?' he asked dully.

'I- I had thought that you…' she swallowed and looked down.

He smiled grimly. 'Nay, she warned me against taking such a path, and I gave her my word.'

He had pulled the blankets up over his wife and brushed her hair so that it fell about her shoulders gracefully.

'It almost looks as though she sleeps.' he murmured sadly.

The babe started to cry again. 

'He will not stop.' Aragorn began to weep despairingly.

'Come, friend, rock him to and fro, and speak to him. Let him hear your voice. Do not let him see your pain.' Éowyn advised, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder and, slowly, the babe was lulled to sleep.

'What do you name your son?'

'Eldarion. That is his name.'

Éowyn nodded. 'I shall have the maid bring up some food- and something for Eldarion.'

And she exited quietly, leaving the grieving man and his son in peace.


End file.
